Three o' clock in the morning. When the telephone started ringing. I had a feeling it would be you. I didn't wanna take it but I let my imagination. Think of some kinda trouble you got into.
When the lights go down. He'll be filling a pan with the broom in his hand. In some drive across town. He'll be wiping the bar and mopping the floor. Countin' his tips and locking the doors.
I knew it would happen to my money honey. Gone with the week, you little little drinking, had a bity party. It went down with that tonic water. Became a pain for Sunday afternoon.
Well I won't make you tell me. What I've come to understand. You're a certain kind of woman and. I'm a different kind of man. I've tried to make you love me.